Strawberries

Heart fruit,
darling of the blackbird's eye,
how easily you give yourself
when ripe.

I swim in the burst of sweet
on my tongue,
wishing
to live as simply as you have,
starting pale and tight,
a universe at dawn
with scattered yellow stars
across your skin,
and in the rising sun
plumpening, your new red
more pure than the sheen
on the petals
of any hothouse flower.
Living only

to tempt someone
to notice you
and stoop low, reach
between the sandy leaves
of your mother,
pluck you whole,
taking you to the lips
for the closest
of kisses.

 

© Jenniffer Lesh